When Angels Travel WIP
by ThreeJane
Summary: pt.3 of the Angels-Series. Warrick's vacation. Slashy mush and romance and a crime that is too weird to be true... Where's Nick??? (W/G, N/S implied)
1. Thursday

THURSDAY  
  
My first day off.  
  
I had followed my own announcement and stayed in bed for half the day, spending the rest of it reading, zapping through the channels of the TV. Staring at the wood-beads of the string-curtains that form the borders of my 'sleeping-room'. It's something I can only do when I'm very relaxed and calm, to let my eyes wander across the patterns of the bead for a while, not thinking at all.  
Zen.  
  
Usually I like to keep my mind busy with work and my body tired with sports. The reason? Well, if you're really busy and tired at the end of your day – whatever daytime that is – it's a lot easier to resist the pull.  
  
That damned calling I hear most of the time. There are days I take long detours on my way to work because I will stay away from the view of those casinos. God knows I'm aware of my problem. I read about addictions, about how the mere sight of somebody else doing what you try to avoid triggers a response too hard to resist. No matter what the drug. Crack, Internet, Heroin, Adrenaline-rush, Gambling, you name it. The brain is the problem and it reacts to the specific addiction in the same way.   
  
After I learned that I tried hard to stay out of those places. Gil knew that all the time and usually tries to assign me to cases that are not located at a casino. Of course that doesn't work all the time. But I'm trying hard and get along. Most of the time...  
  
Anyway, a man can take only that much then he needs a rest. I'm far beyond that point and was napping until Nick showed up shortly after 3 pm.  
  
"Yo! Whazzup?" Nick grinned, dribbling a ball. We often play basketball together. Nick's a great buddy and we got along very well ever since he joined our team.  
  
"Ah, you wanna lose?" I can't help to be arrogant. After all, white boys just can't, right? Except Nick, maybe. He's such a fighter, gives me a hard time out on the field. He can't lose, never. Dunno where that comes from. "Just a sec." I let him in and walk over to the large closet, pulling out a tee-shirt and shorts. I change on the spot. I don't see why I should pretend to be more decent in my own place. We share a locker-room at work and in the showers we have seen of each other as much as you can.  
  
+++  
  
"Shit!"  
  
"Take it easy, brother! I'm fresh and relaxed, you were workin'." I can't suppress a laughter, "What a shame to lose with 14 points!" Nick glares at me what makes me laugh even more. He throws the ball at me with full force but I manage to flinch and it ends up in the park's fountain. In the end we're both soaking wet with water. That's OK, the air is hot and dry this afternoon.   
  
"So... Stokes, what is it with Sara?"  
  
"Well, Warrick, was is it with Catherine?" he shoots back.  
  
"Man, come-on, do tell! She's practically drooling whenever you show up and I can see your hungry eyes on her. How far did ya go? Got her laid?" I'm carefully putting out the bait for my Texan-gentleman-buddy.  
  
"It's not about getting another marker on my list, Warrick! Sara's –"  
  
He can see my grin and realized he'd swallowed the bait, hook and all.  
  
"You bastard!"  
  
"No, I just know how to do my job, Nick. So, that's something serious, huh?"  
  
"Could become, yeah." He's got it hard, I can tell. He has that look in his eyes.  
  
"Good for you, brother. Comin' in for a drink?"  
  
Nick checks his watch, "Naw. It's late. Well then, see you... next week, huh?"  
  
"Right. Have a good time." I walk back inside, shower and flop on the sofa.   
  
And there it hits me. Out of the blue it was back. Getting nervous, having a hard time just sitting still. I think of calling Gil, but what should he do? Lock me up? After all he has a job to do and can't babysit me. Besides: I'm too damn proud to call for help! Stupid, but that's how I am. So I'm clawing the upholstery and think of locking up my wallet once more.  
  
It wouldn't help, I knew. I could get an IOU anyplace.  
  
I'm sweating. It's hard to imagine one could get such withdrawal from a purely psychological thing, but it's true. After a while I calmed down and could convince myself to eat something. Still, not in the mood to cook and order a pizza instead.  
  
  
Half an hour later I watch the news, munching the pizza when the door-bell rings.  
  
Catherine! Yeah, exactly what I had need right now. Deep talking in that state of mine – ridiculous. Still I have no idea how to send her away without telling her what was up. She would understand. She had been there herself. For a second I feel like throwing myself into Catherine's arms...  
  
"Hi Cath."  
  
"Hey! How are you doing on your first day off?"  
  
"Fine, thanks. Don't you want to come-in?" Lying is an initial part of any addiction once it has reached a certain stage. You excel at it sooner or later, so am I. Backing off to give her room to enter although I feel a bit awkward. We have not really talked since the day she had fought with Gil at my place. have no idea why she was here but it couldn't be anything good.  
  
"Warrick, I know it's not fair to bother you but... Eddie's not here and the babysitter had an accident... could you... I mean could Lindsay stay here for tonight? There's not too much you'd have to do?" It was obvious that Cath feels at least as awkward as I myself, the way she constantly shifted her feet.  
  
"Hey, sure!" I'm so relieved I had not to do some uncomfortable talking, I would have accepted anything. Besides: I love Lindsay and it should be fun and quite a distraction to have her around. "When are you going to bring her around?"  
  
"Oh, I, uh, she's in the car."  
  
+++  
  
After sharing the rest of my pizza with the little girl me and Lindsay go into serious talking.  
  
"So, Lindsay, how was school lately? You still like it?"  
  
"I hate sports!"  
  
"You hate it? What are you doing?"  
  
"Swimming. My eyes hurt and I have always water in my ears."  
  
"Oh. That's bad. But soon you will do something else, right?"  
  
"Yes. Baseball."  
  
"That's fun! You're playing girls vs. boys?"  
  
"Yes. And I will hit Peter Jones with my bat really hard."  
  
"Whoa, why would you do that?"  
  
"He's stupid!"  
  
"Because...?"  
  
"He says he has no mommy."  
  
"She probably went away or died?"  
  
"No. he has two daddies and no mom! That's what he says. Everybody has to have a mommy, right uncle Warrick?"  
  
"Right. Only... the mom must not live with the kid. Sometimes they give birth and then move on."  
  
"Don't they love their kids then?"  
  
"I'm sure they do. Only they feel it would be better for the child if it lived someplace else."  
  
Lindsay thought this over for a while.  
  
"Uncle Warrick?"  
  
"Hmmm?"  
  
"You think mom would give me away?"  
  
"NO! What makes you think so? Your mom would never leave you behind!"  
  
"When dad is home they fight and I have to cry. Wouldn't she think I'd be happier someplace else?"  
  
My heart ached for the kid. Stupid Eddie! Why would he not finally leave Cath alone? Wasn't it enough the guy made Cath's life a mess? Had he to ruin Lindsay's as well?  
  
"Would you be?"  
  
"NO! I want to stay with mommy!"  
  
"Then there's no reason for you to worry. Your mommy knows perfectly well that you are happy where you are. Promise."  
  
"OK." Then, after a pause she went on: "Warrick?"  
  
"Yes?" whoa, kids can ask big holes into your tummy! Still I love her continuous poking. Lindsay is such a bright kid.  
  
"When mommy decides to give me away, could I stay with you then?"  
  
"Oh, Linds! You could. But I promise you this will never happen because your mommy loves you to much. Close your eyes and listen to your heart and you will find that you know that already. Come-on: close your eyes!"  
  
the kid complied. I wait a few seconds, "You hear it?" I ask with a low voice.  
  
"Yeah..." it was a breathy but happy answer, then Lindsay's eyes fly open, bright and faithful and she embraces me, "Thank you, uncle Warrick!"  
  
Damn, but you know, that felt great! That second I swear to have kids of my own one day. When I'll be off the hook... It's a sweet thing, such a child. Lindsay is kind of the team's kid, of that extended family we are. Everybody loves her and everybody has always something in a drawer for her just in case she might drop by. Gil adores her, of all people Lindsay was the one who had gotten to his heart first.  
  
Gil... I smile when I think of Gil's own awkward affection towards Linds. The guy tried really hard!  
  
  
"OK, kid. Time to hit the sack. It's too late already. You go to the bathroom and I'll build your bed. Shoo!" I chase the giggling kid around the place until she disappears in the bathroom.  
  
After I tell Lindsay an episode of 'The Little Prince' I kissed her good-night and switch off the lights.  
  
+++  
  
A shrill shriek rips me out of a deep sleep in the middle of the night. After a moment I realize it is Lindsay. In no time I dash through the string-curtains over to the couch, my heart pounding hard with the initial shock.  
  
"Lindsay! Wake-up, baby. You were dreaming."  
  
"MOMMY!" the little girl sits with a start, screaming, her eyes open but not seeing, "MOOOOMMMMYYYYYY!"  
  
God, she would wake the whole neighborhood! I gently take hold of her, try to get through, "Lindsay, it's me, Warrick."  
  
The kid finally comes around, but she's shattered and cries, stuttering something about mom going away, leaving her behind. I hold her until the small form calms down and stops shaking. It turns out to be impossible to leave her. Every time I shift to leave the seemingly sleeping child, she wakes and grabs whatever she can get hold of me. So I finally resign, pick her up and carry her over to the bed where we could both sleep comfortably until the door-bell wakes me. 


	2. Friday Morning

FRIDAY Morning  
  
  
"Shit!" I had slept late! Lindsay should by this time be ready for school. Clambering out of bed I rush to the door.  
  
"Hey, Cath... man, I overslept. Sorry." I ruffle my hair and let my colleague and friend enter.  
  
"Hi. Where's Lindsay?" Catherine looks around, noticing Lindsay is not sleeping on the couch as she was supposed to be.  
  
"Uh... my bed."  
  
Cath spun around, eyeing me suspiciously, "What's she doing there?"  
  
"She had –" only then it dawns what Catherine's question implied. She's standing there like a cougar, ready to strike out and kill whatever may dare to get too close to her baby. I raise my hands in a defensive gesture, "Hey, wait a minute! You don't really think that I -?" this stings a lot, hurts like hell. People could say many things about me, but this was... unthinkable! Doesn't she know how much I adore Lindsay? I may be bi, but that is light-years away from a child-molester!  
  
We stand there, both frozen. I because I cannot believe anybody who's supposed to know the least bit of me would ever think THIS of me. For a split second I'm tempted to throw her out, my hands clenched in fists.   
But then she breaks and that evaporates my anger immediately. I'm not really over her, am I.  
  
"God, I'm sorry, Warrick!" she's contrite and tired, the lines in her pretty face deep after a long shift.  
  
"Bad night, huh?" I can relate perfectly. Surely some case with a kid involved. That always got to her badly.  
  
"Yeah."  
  
I hug her, my hands rubbing her tense back, my chin resting on her head, holding her for a few moments. Cath melts against me in that way that immediately wakes my protectiveness. And a part of me, the more primal one, could imagine other things as well. "Why don't you go and wake her while I fix us some coffee, hm?"   
  
"Thank you so much, Warrick."  
  
"Hey, we're friends! Maybe we don't date, but we're friends, right?" this was not the time for a serious talk, but it was a start.  
  
"Sure." Cath nods before she turns to wake her daughter.  
  
+++++  
  
Is this a bee-hive? Not an hour after Cath left, there's somebody knocking on my door. Not that I'm not having friends and buddies dropping by from time to time, but it's morning, they know I'm supposed to sleep now and most of them are off to work by that time anyway. They are rare, I have to admit. My working-schedule leaves not too much overlapping with 'normal' peoples'.  
  
I put down the paper and my coffee with a sigh and walk over to the door. I'm still in shorts and tank-top; don't see why I should not take my time with getting' ready for the day. It's Gil. Now, that's cool! Haven't expected to see him that soon. I rip open the door.  
  
"There's my man! Come-in." he slips in, quickly closing the door behind him. He's about to brush a quick kiss on my lips but I won't let him get off with that little! Not after two days. I pull him flush against me and ravage his mouth. Yeah, that taste, how I have missed it. And his soft moans – like he's constantly trying to suppress them. I drink him, inhale him, wrap myself around him until – for a short moment – my world is completely filled by him.  
  
I only release him when I have the feeling it was a worthy welcome-kiss. Left me breathless and aroused. "You been workin' late again." I chide him though I sure know it's useless. Gil is married to his work, will ever be. I know better than offering him coffee: for Gil it's late and almost bed-time. He's exhausted: deep dark shadows under his eyes.  
  
"Whoa, Rick! You surely know how to wake the dead!"   
  
"Feels like." I chuckle as I let my hand cup the swelling of his crotch. Gil gasps although I can see the disapproval in his eyes. He doesn't like too explicit acting outside the bed, it seems. OK, I'll make a note.  
  
"I have this weekend off." He starts.  
  
"I know. Don't you wanna sit?"   
  
Gil shakes his head, "Naw. Need to crash."  
  
"Ah, mi casa es su casa. Might as well crash on my mattress." I don't see why he should drive any farther.  
  
"Appreciate it, Warrick, but I prefer my own bed. Why I'm here: I'm leaving for Soda Springs over at Devil's Playground this afternoon and I wondered if you'd like to come along?"  
  
Ah, spending quality-time! Yeah, I had hoped for it but had not dared to push him.  
  
"Sure! What's at Soda Springs?" I'm not sure if I've heard the name ever before.  
  
"An old resort. Was closed decades ago. Now there's just some biologists."  
  
"And bugs." Not really a long shot, is it?  
  
"Tons of them. Very interesting species, some endemic." Gil's excited, I can see that much. He looks around, the always alert observer he is, and spots the remains of Lindsay's bed on my couch, "You had a visitor?"  
  
"Yeah. Cute little blonde." I joke. Regret it immediately because I can see he's shutting down.  
  
"Oh."   
  
I really should have known! "Lindsay." Clarifying, "The babysitter was sick and Eddie-dear..." I make a deprecating gesture. We both'd like to put some pressure on the guy's gums, maybe give his nose a new angle.  
  
"Ah." Oh man! What a relief he's trying to hide. Still, I know him long enough to read him properly, can see him relax a tad. If you can SEE Gil relax, that's a lot of relaxation! He's yawning heartily, I'm afraid it may split his face. I should not let him drive.  
  
"So, I'll drop by this afternoon. Anything special I'll need?"  
  
"Water. It's out in the desert. A sleeping-bag and hiking-boots." He informs me after quickly thinking over what I need to know.  
  
"OK."  
  
"I'll call you when I get up. See you." He gives me a quick hug.  
  
"Gil? I'm looking forward to it!" the only response I get is a quick, small smile.  
  
+++  
  
What to put on? Standing in my closet I have no idea what to wear. I'm positively excited about this little adventure. To grow up in Las Vegas does not imply you go out into the desert often. At least I never did. I'm a purely urban warrior and know shit about wilderness.  
  
Sunscreen. Sure. In the age of thinning ozone-layers nobody walks unprotected in the sun right? That eases my choice and I pick a pair of loose, thin long pants the color of khaki. A tee-shirt and two or three more to take along with some underwear. OK. I put the few items into a duffel-bag. Soap, towel, toothbrush – check. Condoms! Yeah, tons of rubbers and KY – I'm determined to fuck Gil's brains out.  
  
I have to go shopping since I don't own a sleeping bag. There are some outdoor-shops listed in the yellow-pages. The first one is mainly for fishing, the second closed but the third looks like what I need.  
  
Stepping inside I get immediately caught up in an atmosphere of adventure. Tents on display, kettles hung up on some wooden sticks, it's a set-up scenery and it's done damn well. But they have too much stuff and I get lost choosing a sleeping-bag. They're mostly colorful, fluffy and expensive.  
  
"Can I help you?" a young woman stands there, friendly smiling, her long blond hair is bleached by the sun, her skin tanned to a dark bronze and her bright blue eyes are sparkling. Surfer, I conclude. Or maybe roller-blader. She looks me up and down like my gold-chain and rings don't meet her picture of the usual shopper.  
  
"I hope so! I need a sleeping-bag."  
  
"What purpose?"  
  
"Sleeping?" I give it a try. She's laughing.  
  
"Obviously. But where? On a glacier, on a boat, in the desert? The type of bag depends on where you will use it." She explains. I have outed myself as a novice already. I hope she will not take advantage of my lack of knowledge. "You wouldn't be able to sleep in the desert in summer using a bag that is designed to keep you alive in the Antarctic winter."  
  
"Oh, makes sense. It's out in the desert and I'm going to need it right now."  
  
"OK. Then you should take a look at these..." she walks to the other end of the bags' line-up. They are much thinner there, the woman pulls out three different sleeping-bags. "This one is really high-tech with Gore-Tex lining to keep away moisture from outside and provide best transportation of sweat to the bag's outside."  
  
"Hmmm."  
  
"You are new to this, right?"  
  
"Yeah. Bloody embryo." I mutter. I don't like being ignorant. She smiles again.  
  
"OK. My suggestion is this bag: " it's a simple blue one, "it's last season's model, therefore I could give you some discount on it. If you find out this is now what you want, it wouldn't be too much of a waste of money. You can still buy a better one later."  
  
That seems a fair offer to me and in the end I have a brand-new sleeping-bag and a pair of hiking-boots in my duffel-bag. All I have to do is wait for Gil's call. 


	3. Friday Night

FRIDAY Night  
  
  
3 am.   
I can't sleep.  
  
So I'm standing at the window, looking out. Behind me on the floor Gil is sleeping like a baby. It's pitch-black outside and not a single light on anywhere.  
I've never been in such a darkness.  
I've never experienced such silence.  
To me it's eerie.  
  
The whole scenery is kind of unreal!  
We arrived at Soda Springs right in time for a nice dinner with the guys who run this outpost. Nice people, actually, friends of Gil's.  
  
This old resort can be accessed by a road with an unspeakable name: Zzyzx. S'pose the guy who named it wanted to make sure it would forever be the last entry in an alphabetical listing of road-names around the world. The resort looks like all guests have only recently been abducted by aliens – everything's still in place and neat. It's weird, somehow. Then I learn they now use the resort as dorms for students who come out here for their studies.  
  
Studies of what?  
  
We were assigned to a two-bed dorm with bunk-beds. Bunk-beds! Shit.  
Luckily it needed not too much to convince Gil to put both mattresses on the floor, to make a more spacious playground without the prospect of constantly banging our heads. Being more specific: his.   
  
We were making love.   
Gil was topping me.  
I'm OK with that. I know he needs time to trust completely. Being bottom has not that much to do with submission. Funny how most het guys see it that way: the bottom succumbs totally to the dominant top.   
  
Way wrong.   
  
Being bottom has to do with trust. Whoever had anal sex and was on the receiving side – man or woman, doesn't matter – knows that although it's a great experience and feels... fantastic, it can easily be turned into literally gut-wrenching pain when the top is careless or doesn't listen.  
  
So the way we do it, it's me offering complete trust and Gil knows. But I'm setting the pace, I'm asking Gil to go faster, to pound me harder and he does it fucking good.  
  
It will take another while until Gil is ready to trust me that much. Looks like that is going to be hard work, breaking up that year-old shell with all the crust on it. I'm sure it'll be worth it, because from time to time I get short glimpses of what I believe is Gil. The true self of him. I like what I see then.   
Love it.  
  
We did it face to face and I fought hard to keep my eyes open, to see his expression. Made it all so much more... intimate. I hope I will never forget that look on his face: pleasure washing over him like a tidal wave and it's us, me! who's doing that to him.  
  
The memory of our recent love-making makes me shudder as I stand here at this window.  
  
"Are you OK?" Gil's voice nearly makes me jump out of my skin.  
  
"Yeah. I just can't sleep." I can hear the sheets move and then he's beside me, skin on skin.  
  
"What's it?" I can hear the concern in his voice.  
  
"Nothing. It's too damn quiet! My ears seem to scream for some noise."  
  
Gil's chuckling, "That's what the outback is like. Besides: it's far from silent."  
  
"Hrmph."  
  
"Surely you've been camping before?"  
  
"Not like this. We spent some nights out in the parks, yeah. But I never went out that far. I mean: what for? There's nothing here!"  
  
"You never... get dressed!"  
  
"What?" oh man! Another Gilford-weirdness coming up in the middle of the night.  
  
"I said: get dressed." He's doing so already.  
  
"Gil, it's the middle of the night, people might think we're crazy."  
  
He shrugs with this typical I-don't-care face. Shaking my head I follow his orders, let him take me by the hand and lead me outside.  
  
"Gil –"  
  
"Shhht!" his head is slightly cocked and he watches me as if I was one of his bugs.   
I keep my mouth shut.   
I listen into the silence.  
That complete, deadly silence...  
  
Does not exist!  
  
My eyes widen. As I allow my ears to get adjusted to the low level of noise I realize the myriads of sounds that make up that sound of silence out here. All kinds of animals, big and small contribute to it. The longer I stand and listen the more different sounds I can distinguish.  
  
My eyes start to see. It is far from being pitch-black! The sky is completely clear, a half-moon rising, casting a silver light bright enough to let everything have a shadow. In the middle of the night there are shadows!   
And the stars!  
I can see myriads of them. I think I can see the milky-way. So many stars...  
  
"Oh man!" I whisper, totally in awe.  
  
With a low voice Gil shows me some of the start, names them and explains me how to navigate by them, that you could never go wrong by following them. We have walked a circle and are now nearing our room again.  
  
"There's another star you haven't mentioned. One you can always count on, even on cloudy nights." I tell him.  
  
"What would that be? Your camera's flashlight?" he mocks dryly.  
  
"No. I mean Gilford Grissom." I whisper in his ear, leaving him speechless. 


	4. Saturday

Back in our room I lay awake for some more moments, listening to all those noises Gil had opened my ears to. That and Gil's even breathing. When working odd hours, you learn to sleep whenever you can or you'll soon go nuts.  
  
Eventually sleep pulles me into a peaceful calm darkness.  
  
  
A loud thud wakes me and I sit with a start.  
  
"Man! What are you doing?" Gil is already dressed. He had dropped his boot, that was what woke me.  
  
"The bugs. They'll hide during daytime." That small smile again, the look that says 'you should know that much, Warrick.'  
  
I let myself fall back onto the mattress with a groan. This man is impossible! "Gil! I thought we... well, you know, we'd be layzin' and makin' love and stuff?" I AM a bit disappointed. Seems I came here under wrong assumptions, somehow. Guy's really gonna seek bugs. At 7 am! Who said Greg was weird?  
  
My man kneels down at my side, "Rick, most time of the day we won't be able to do anything but be lazy! And I am determined to have you as often as my old body manages to do so. But right now, I want to do what I came here for in the first place. Making love isn't running away, a bug does."  
  
"Old body!" I snort. He's fishing for compliments!  
  
"It's a fact that refractionary-period grows with age." God! He can be so scientific! I pull him into a kiss, savor him, explore his mouth as soon as my tongue has won the duel. He tastes so good, I don't want to stop! I'd want to go on, have him.  
  
"You don't need to worry, you sure are satisfying without leaving a whish open." I tell him after I took a deep breath. A smile that tells him I might not be quite honest flashes across his face. Then he gently frees himself from my embrace. His mind is set and I cannot change it. I do know and a part of me understands – it is what he came here for. I am an add-on. It's a bit frustrating anyway. 


	5. Monday Morning

Note: I have no idea about card-games, I admit. So I won't get into depth with that.   
I've been at Vegas one time and I don't need to repeat that. I hated it. Sorry, but that's what I felt. It was terrible to witness that abundance of waste of resources and all those people with grim faces gambling along, loosing thousands of dollars and not even giving a dime to the begging veteran in the wheelchair out on the street. I spent some dollars at a slot-machine and after that I knew I could have spent it better.  
Just not my cup of tea...  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
"See you tomorrow." Gil's fingers brush my cheek before we leave his car. The last caress for more than 24 hours. I carry my stuff over to my own.  
  
"Yeah, tomorrow. Enjoy work."  
  
On my ride home I reminisce the past days. The weekend had been a blast! We had so much time to get to know each other, to find how much we did not know after all these years of working together! Neither of us had to be afraid to be dissed or caught in the act by somebody we knew. The people around were Gil's friends who knew he was gay and were easy about it. They kissed at the table and we just had the same rights granted. It was very deliberating.  
  
I hated to think of next Thursday when we would be forced to play our roles again. It had already started over at Gil's. Out of his car we were nothing but good buddies to the neighbors.   
  
I hated it.  
  
Maybe we should slowly break the news to our colleagues? First tell them I was bi, Gil was gay, see how they react and from there... maybe... take the next step and let the full truth come out? It's just too dangerous. Gil could loose his job! And I know well that for him, it's far more than a job. It's part of him, defines a good part of his existence. They find always a reason to kick you out once they found out you're gay.   
  
I enter my place and it seems too quiet. I turn on the stereo and make myself busy with preparing the laundry, filing through the mail, catching up with the latest news. It's been years since I felt so lonely at my home. Suddenly it's cold and empty. It hasn't been like this since... since... SHE had left me.  
  
  
+++  
  
  
It's great!  
I can feel the adrenaline pump through my system.  
All the familiar sounds, that cacophony of slot-machines and croupiers and gamblers, the lights flashing in all colors of the rainbow.  
  
I have been watching the table for a while, was waiting for the dealer to start with a new set of cards, waited a while until I was rather sure what cards were already out, my pocket full of chips.  
  
Now I'm walking over to a free seat and, with a small nod toss a $10,- chip, have the dealer give me two cards.   
Mediocre.  
I order another. 


	6. Monday Night Never Party on a Weekday

"WARRICK!" suddenly a loud voice filters through the haze, a hard hand squeezing my shoulder, forcing me to turn around. Slowly I come to realize where I am, what I am doing.   
  
The face I'm looking at is deeply concerned, Gil's blue eyes look angry, sad, troubled.  
  
"Warrick, what are you doing here?"  
  
"God, Gil... how'd ya know I was here?"  
  
"You nearly ran me over with your car; I thought I'd better see if you could need some help. Let's get you out of here!" he grabs my chips, pulls the cards out of my restive hands and then, arm wrapped thightly around my back, Gil leads me to the exit.   
I feel dizzy.   
Worse than that is the shame.  
  
Then I see them, see their faces: Nick and Sara.   
I want to die.  
With painful clarity I see them making a step towards us before Gil stops them with a single look. I cannot longer look at them, the contempt in Sara's eyes burns on my skin.  
  
Gil's car.  
He's driving. I look at him but his face is unreadable.  
"How... why were you there?" I manage to ask. I am glad he stopped me, yet it appears like a miracle to me.  
"Possible jumper."  
I realize that I'm shaking. It's so bad I cannot unlock my door.  
  
  
"Rick, this isn't your door." Gil chides me softly. Oh. Yeah, it's HIS. He opens the door and leads me inside.  
  
Then everything goes too fast for me to realize:  
Gil pushes me against the wall, his mouth captures mine in a savage kiss and his hands pull at my clothes. The rush is immense, washing away my dizziness and replacing it with something else: urgent need!  
"Damn you, Warrick!" Gil hisses.  
  
We stumble over to the bed, Gil undressing me as we do so. My pants pool around my ankles and I stumble, catching myself with my arms. I find myself caught in a bent-over position, arms braced against the mattress. He takes me swiftly without any foreplay and it hurts.  
  
This is different.   
This is raw.   
Yet, it is what I need.   
A valve to get rid of the tension, a means to get a rush equal to what I was looking for in the casino.  
  
And Gil knows!  
He's inside me, burning his way into me.   
He's fire and ice.  
He's punishing me, yet it liberates me.  
  
Our sounds are as raw as the act and when Gil comes, he does so with a grunt, biting down on my back. It sends me over and I spill over his hand and onto the bed where I collapse.  
  
Immediately Gil is with me again, holding me, hugging me with a full-body embrace. My chest is heaving with labored breathing.  
I am shaking.  
Still?  
Again?  
I have no idea...  
  
"God, Warrick!" Gil's breath is hot on my neck, "Why haven't you called me?"  
"'Cuz... you have a job to do. You can't babysit me all the time. – Nick and Sara are waiting for you."  
"They get along perfectly well, I am sure. Now cut the crap, man. Why. Haven't. You.Called?"  
I need some seconds to answer, "I have to deal with this. I. Not you. I must be able to handle this."  
"You're such a stubborn idiot, Rick." I can see flaring anger in his eyes and for a second I am scared. He turns away, walks a few steps with his fingers combing his hair, then he returns.  
  
The moment he left me I rolled up like an embryo. I hate me for being like this, for letting him see me like this. It's the devastating aftermath that always comes after the rush. I pull a part of the blanket over my naked body.  
  
There he stands, looking down on me. I can see his legs, his limp sex – I dare not looking farther up, afraid of the contempt in his eyes. Or worse: disappointment.  
  
"I'm sorry." He says, his hand gently caressing my face after he sat down again.  
"What?" I'm not sure I heard him right.  
"I should have guessed. I shouldn't have left you alone like I did."  
"How did it happen?"  
"I'm not sure. I think it was... my place was so empty and I felt so... so alone. I was different after this weekend. I was lost, somehow."  
"I should have known!"  
"How?"  
"'Cause I felt the same. Only I'm more used to it, I suppose, being alone, I mean. I should have guessed you wouldn't feel too good."  
"Oh."  
"But anyway, you should have called me, Rick! This is nothing you can handle alone. Not in this early stage. That has nothing to do with babysitting. Do you hear me?"  
I nod.  
"I can't hear you."  
"Yeah."  
"Say it, Warrick!"  
"It's OK, I got you."  
"Say it!" Gil grabs my chin and forces me to look at him "For God's sake, Warrick: I don't want to loose you. I want to help you but you have to give me a chance!"  
"I'll call you next time." There, I said it.  
"Good boy." He ruffles my hair and kisses me. 


	7. Caught in the Act

Author's note: sorry this took so long, but when life is stressing, my muse turns her back on me. Anyway, don't worry, I am determined to finish this.  
  
-------------------  
  
  
  
  
"You're tensing up again... relax, Warrick... " Gil's voice is a caress.   
Yet I can't help.   
It's a thrill.  
  
I finally got that promised spider –thingy. Right now the fat black beast is walking across my chest, exploring my skin. My love was right: it's about the most gentle touch possible. I have my eyes closed yet I know Gil sits besides me on the bed, dressed in black boxers and a charcoal-gray silk bathrobe that suits him very well.  
  
Tap-tap-tapperatap the spider's feet walk around some more steps and finally I manage to relax into the experience.  
  
"Good..." Gil whispers.  
  
This is kind of a weird therapy, but it works. I'm feeling good, utterly relaxed, the pull is gone completely. Vanished. It's amazing because usually after such a heavy fallback it takes days to fully recover.  
  
The doorbell rings suddenly and we all freeze for a second. Spiders have very sensitive vibration-sensors and the large insect (yeah, I know Gild would correct me right now because insects have only 6 legs and spiders – arachnidae – are a separate species) is irritated by my tensing-up.  
  
With a low curse Gil collects the beast back into its terrarium before he walks to the door, closing his bathrobe properly. I watch him step aside to let somebody enter after exchanging a few words. I'm pulling up the blanket so I'm covered up to my chest.   
  
It's Nick! He's a real friend. I know he came to see how I'm doing and I'm grateful for that. It doesn't last too long for I see the bewilderment on his face. The criminalist in him takes in the scene – scattered clothing all over the place, Gil in his bathrobe and me in bed. Getting caught in the act couldn't have been more clear!  
  
"I – uh – I wanted to make sure you're all-right. You looked terrible, you know?" Nick shuffles his feet.  
  
"Thanks, buddy. I'll be all-right. Already doing much better."  
  
"Good. I wanted to make sure you're not missing anything but it looks like... errm, well, you're being cared for..." he wants to leave. Oh, lord! I can see Nick wants to run. It's a big, cold lump in my stomach that grows with every second of Nick's embarrassed presence. I don't think I can stand it much longer.   
  
He's my best buddy!  
Yet, the way he tries not to look at me, at the room, at Gil is killing me.  
  
"Yes I am in good hands here." I say with all the love in my voice. I'm not going to pretend. Not here, not now, not with Gil leaning in the doorway! I'm throwing Nick a line, "Anyway, thanks for caring, Nick."  
  
"Don't mention. So... we'll see Thursday?" Nick can hardly wait to leave.  
  
"Right."  
  
"See ya." Nick all but runs from the room.  
  
  
  
I'm slacking, eyes falling shut. This wasn't exactly the way I had pictured my coming-out in the office! "Oh man!" I groan.  
  
"He'll get over it." Gil says.  
  
"Yeah. Only... man did you see the look in his eyes? Like he discovered I was a pedo or some other sicko!" well, in Nick's eyes I probably AM some sicko. I'm fucking another guy. Riding the Hershey-highway. Having some guy up my ass. Shit! Fucking shit!   
  
"Damn!" I hammer my fist into the mattress.  
  
"Hey, don't sweat it, Rick." Gil is by my side, wraps himself around me and holds me until we both calm down enough to find some sleep.  
  
  
  
  
"Nick? It's Warrick." I had sneaked out of the bed and walked into the bathroom with the cordless. I just had to call Nick.  
  
"Oh... hi."  
  
"Listen, buddy: Gil and me –"  
  
"Hey, it's not my business what you guys do when you're off. Really, I don't mind!" Nick hurries to say. It's too quick, I know he's lyin'.   
  
"Nick, just one thing: don't tell the others, OK? I mean, you wouldn't want to see Gil fired, would you?"  
  
"No! No..."  
  
"Good. Things are already complicated enough the way they are. Just wanted to make sure, ya know?"  
  
"I'm fine. Don't worry." Nick assure me, or he assures himself. Or both. Rather...  
  
"Cool. See ya Thursday, right?"  
  
"Yeah. Bye, War." Click. Line goes dead.   
This is bad.   
Oh shit, this is fucking bad.   
And stupid me had always thought Cath would be a hard nut to crack in this story!   
I'm fucking my boss.   
My gay boss.  
And my best buddy and co-worker is grossed-out.  
Only a question of days until they all know and the real trouble starts.  
And all this only because I'm such a dumb fuck who can't control his addiction!  
All because of me. 


	8. What Friends are for

AN: It took me a hell of a time to write this. I had it done and re-done and then I wrote it new again, muse left and refused to return. If I were not so deeply buried in work right now, I'd be much farther. As it is, the next week won't see another key hit on the keyboard for fun-reasons. Be patient, I do have a plan  
seems I cannot write without having a crime in the story. Well, after all it's a crime-series, right? This one, again is inspired by a really weird case that just got discovered this week here in Hesse. The human mind indeed is one dark, fathomless pit!  
-- Work it is --  
The rest of my vacation went by without anything happening. I was able to relax again and by the time the alarm went off I had nearly forgotten about any possible problems I might have to face at work.  
  
Gambling.   
I had done it again and they ALL knew!  
Gil.   
I wondered if Nick had told them THAT as well.  
  
So I arrived at the lab rather tensely. Gil is away on some conference and Cath does the dispatching. She either doesn't know or she is on a really mean trip because Nick and me get assigned on a missing-person. Since when do you need two CSIs for one missing? Why us at all?  
  
We arrive at the vic's place. His sister's there. She was the one who filed him missing – insisted in having somebody investigate the case. She's not looking that bitchy, to be honest  
  
"Nice lady." I comment 'ere we get out of the car.  
  
"Yup."   
  
Ah, well at least he's talking. Nick was tacit and nervous during the drive and I was constantly waiting for some stupid comment. Nothing happened. Absolutely nothing and that's just as scaring. I decide to let him to the talking. To observe is more to my taste anyway.  
  
"Ms. Ramirez?"   
  
"Yes, officer?"  
  
"No, Ma'am. We're CSI-investigators. My name is Nick Stokes, this is Warrick Brown." Nick properly introduces us. Ramirez is irritated and immediately lets us know:  
  
"I thought I had made clear that this is a possible crime..."  
  
"Ma'am, that is why we are here. Why don't we go inside and you tell us why you are so sure about a crime happening?" oh man! Nick is so... so good with women. He really knows how to make them surrender almost immediately. Even bitchy Ramirez gets wrapped around his finger after a moment.   
  
She turns and approaches the door, key in hand.  
  
"One moment, please." I stop her. I'm anxious to keep her from the door. Anxious enough to interfere with Nick leading the investigation. He gives me a sharp, annoyed look. "Let's make sure there are no traces of forced entry at the door."  
  
"Sure."  
  
There's nothing. Scratches around the lock from fumbling with the keys in the dark or when drunk or stoned – I know these. Most of us have these scratches on their doors. Near the ground there are a few deeper scratches and in two places the lacquer is completely gone. But they are old: the wood has already grayed. The scratches are in foot-height. Maybe fresh, maybe old from pushing the door open with a foot. I take some pictures.  
  
Nick has put on his gloves and instructed Ramirez not to touch anything so we won't loose fingerprints. She hands him the keys and when I nod my OK he unlocks the door. Right, he unlocks it.   
  
Inside Nick switches on the light. Everything is neat and clean. If it weren't for the pictures that give the place a personal note, I'd say it is some kind of, well, set-up; scenery. I take pictures of this completely insignificant scene.  
  
"Does this place look like this all the time?" I cannot help asking.  
  
"Yeah. Josh is a neat-freak." Ramirez nearly excuses her brother.  
  
We walk through all rooms and I take the usual load of general pictures. Nothing's missing: guy's personal stuff is in the bathroom, all drawers are filled with clothes, so is the closet. Damn! We're here for absolutely nothing!  
  
Downstairs Nick is talking to Ramirez  
  
"...He is never late, Mr. Stokes! In the past ten years he never missed any appointment. If he was late only ten minutes, he had always called ahead. Josh would never miss my birthday!" Ramirez is indeed very upset.  
  
"You say the last time you talked to him was the day before yesterday?"  
  
"Yes."  
  
"And yesterday...?"  
  
"Yesterday was my birthday. He wanted to drop by for teatime and stay until after dinner. He never came and he never called. I tried his office but he had not been there all day. He had not called in sick or anything. They did not know what to make of this. He never stayed away without saying a word." Ramirez is damn nervous, chewing on her fingernails.  
"I came here –"  
  
She glances at me and stops. Nick turns awating my statement.  
  
"Nothing. Looks like he'd walk in any minute." I shrug.  
  
"So…?" Nick cocks one eyebrow.  
  
"Haven't been in the kitchen yet. Just a sec." I do that mostly to give Ramirez the impression we really really did the whole shebang, not missing a spot. "Bingo!" I call out. Ah, this is instinct! There's a magazine on the counter, the pages with classifieds are open and one in marked with an 'X'.   
  
*flash*, *flash*, *flash* I take pictures. Nick is already at my side, gloves on. He tries to decrypt the text which consists of nothing but abbreviations.  
  
"CBT. M seeks M for ult. exp. vid. BD, WS, SC, canib. snuff." Nick reads out. "What the hell…? Kind of a secred code, huh?"  
  
"Dunno. Show me the cover." I do have an idea what it might be about, but I want to make sure. Nick turns the cover and it's some gay S&M magazine. Hard-core stuff, really sick and weird – I flipped through one quite a while ago.. The look Nick gives is priceless – on the negative side. It's clear that he thinks I do such things. I need to clarify yet I can't. We're at an investigation here.  
  
"He probably called and went there." I suggest. "May take a while. Mrs. Ramirez, does your brother practice S&M?"  
  
"W—what?"   
  
I can see she has no idea what that is.  
  
"Is your brother a homosexual?" Nick asks her. I roll my eyes. As if S&M had anything to do with being gay in the first place.  
  
"Yes, he is. Why? Does that change anything?" she is ready to defend him and give us shit in advance.  
  
"Mrs. Ramirez, it is possible that your brother had an appointment that took longer than he had planned it would. That happens sometimes. Do you want us to check that?" I explain carefully.  
  
"Yes! Yes, please do so." She is relieved. I can see that she would gladly cling to any straw one would hand her.  
  
"OK. We'll call you then. Good bye." I say. Nick glares at me.  
"What the hell, Warrick? Why do we have to go after some pervert? We don't do missing persons."  
  
"Oh, yeah. Like you know it all, huh? Why is he pervert? Because he's into S&M or because he likes it up the ass? And if he IS kink, does that cancel his rights to have a proper examination of his case or what?" here in the car I can let go, blow a gasket.  
  
"Bullshit." Nick mutters.  
  
"Bullshit? You think I'm blind or what? You think I can't see the looks you give me? You stare at that mag and think 'oh my gosh, what a sick bastard Warrick is!' don't you think I can see that? Mr. Righteous." I spit it out.  
  
Nick stops the car, his face is red with anger as he faces me. "Shut the fuck up, War! I never had in mind to discuss that with you! You're into guys, fine. No problem. Only: leave me out of that, OK? Just don't fill me in and we get along pretty well."  
  
"Oh, right: sex and job have nothing to do with each other."  
  
"Exactly." Nick nods.  
  
"God, what a bigot bastard are you? You tell me 'bout the chicks you got laid, but I shall not tell you 'bout the guys I had? Have I not the same rights only because I'm bi? I really thought we were friends, Nick!" I wonder if my voice sounds as bitter as the taste in my mouth is right now. God, I'm so angry, so disappointed! This guy was my best friend, I never tried anything, never ever hit on him and he – God, it hurts and that makes me angry.  
  
"You can have all rights you want, just leave me out of that, OK? If you need to fuck the boss, OK. Go and fuck whoever you want, get fucked, just keep it for yourself. Do you get that?"  
  
"You believe all those stupid stereotypes, huh? Gays do nothing but fuck their brains out, need to squeeze their asscheeks together because else their ass leaks and all that shit? God, Nick! It's..... It's not about fucking around! Do you think straights have a monopoly on falling in love or what? I have a heart like you! I fall in love, I hurt, my heart breaks just like yours. I fall in love with a person, not with a pair of boobs or balls like you seem to. – Ah, shit!" I slam my fist onto the dashboard. I feel reduced to …… I don't know. Some automaton. Like I'm not a person but a just a walking, talking dick.  
  
I can feel Nick's stare on me for a while, then he looks straight out the windshield. Silence grows like a wall between us. Stretches like the growing distance that is suddenly between us. Chokes whatever could have been said to mend this sudden rupture. Shit. Fucking shit – literally. After some five minutes I think he just wants me out and I really think about taking a walk. 


	9. Interlude

Interlude  
  
The shift is nearly over by the time I arrive at the lab. I had ignored Nick who had driven besides me and told be to cut the crap and get back into the Tahoe. No fucking way, man! I don't have to let him diss me, right? He gave up after a mile or so, unnerved by the cars driving by and blowing their horns for he was a damned obstacle.  
  
I walked off some of the steam and finally decided to find a way to get back.  
  
After a while I managed to catch a cab that brought me to the lab.. Charged me twenty bucks. Christ, what do they fuel their cars with? Liquid gold?  
  
I close my eyes, take a deep breath and brace myself for whatever awaits me. Cath is probably extremely pissed. I hear loud sounds from the break room and head there after realizing the rest of the lab is dead empty.   
  
"Holy fucking cow, look at this!" that's Greggo. He sounds like he's freaked out a bit. His exclamation in followed by sounds of disgust and disbelief.  
  
"hah-hah! Now, THIS makes you jealous, Greg, doesn't it? Christ, how's that suppose!" it's Sara and it sounds like the two of them are having a great time. I stick my head through the doorframe.  
  
"Havin' fun there?" I say.  
  
They whirl around as if I have caught them with making out or some such. Greg turns beet-red. Now that's a new one. I can't seem to remember when Greg had ever blushed before. Sara looks extremely guilty. What is this about? I approach the table and spot a magazine. Some hardcore S&M… Greg and Sara would love to evaporate!  
  
"This is evidence! What are ya thinkin'?" I recognize the mag. "Are the prints being taken?" I can see the powder all across the glossy paper yet I need to nag about it.  
  
"Of course. Nick took them all and then he went searching the internet for all those weird abbreviations." Sara explains.  
  
Great. I would have wanted to explain to Nick what they meant, that I hardly did such things but the way it was, after our clash in the car I'm not in the mood. I check my watch: twenty more minutes. Suddenly my cellular rings. I check the display and my heart skips definitely more than one beat.  
  
"Hi there!" I answer the call and turn my back on my co-workers, hastily leaving the room in search of some privacy.  
  
"Warrick!" Ah, Gil's voice! At once I both relax and tense up: I have to take care not to say anything that might betray who is on the phone right now. "How are you?"  
  
"Doing fine." Not necessary to tell him 'bout the clash with Nick. "Missing you. When do you come back?"  
  
Gil laughs softly "Ricky, I only left last night."  
  
"Yeah, I know. But I haven't SEEN you in 24 hours..." holy fucking shit, I behave like a crazy teen! Is this Warrick Brown, the man who's never been owned by anybody? Yes, Sir, that's me. Madly in love with the Bug-Man.  
  
"Then you've already survived one third, Rick. Only two more nights."  
  
I can only groan with frustration.  
  
"Is Cath around?" he asks. Of course, the job. He's married to it, I'm the affair he has secretly.   
  
"Yeah, doing all the paperwork."  
  
"I'll call her now, hear how things are going. I'll call you tomorrow. I miss you, Ricky." It's his way to tell me he loves me. I know that. He is hardly ever saying it at all, I have to read between the lines most of the time. Sometimes I think it's as if Gil is afraid those three little words, that short sentence 'I love you' fades out a bit every time it is being said. That one day it is completely gone and he wants to delay that moment as long as he can. Maybe one day I can make him see that it can grow, at least stay as fresh, good and strong as it was on the first day. That its color is completely resistant to anything that threatens to let it fade. He deserves that much. Deserves to be rid of that fear.  
  
"Alright. 'Til tomorrow then." The lines goes dead. Tomorrow? My ass! I'm not going to wait that long! The urge to leave the lab is suddenly even stronger. I want to avoid Nick who is just about to learn what CBT means aside from 'computer-based-training', I want to avoid my co-workers being pleasantly grossed-out from reading a kink magazine and I oh-so-urgently want to go home, call Gil and hear his voice.  
  
So I excuse myself early, telling them I don't feel too well – which is not a complete lie after what Nick and I had said. We seem to have ruined a damn-good friendship with a few unreflected words. Shit. 


	10. Imagination

Imagination  
  
"Grissom."   
  
"It's me again." I have made myself comfy on the bed. Gil's voice is a bit tired. "did I wake you?"  
  
"Not really."  
  
"Man, I miss you so! I wish I could feel you right now. I would bite you, Gil."  
  
"Warrick!" he chides me softly. So what? Nobody can hear us.  
  
"Yeah, bite your neck where you like it most, Gil. I can nearly taste you, when I close my eyes." I really can. I have my eyes closed and I can actually taste him. Almost as if he's really here with me.  
  
"Rick?"  
  
"Yeah..."  
  
"What are you doing?"  
  
"Ugh......" shit, he's noticed. I should have known! Ah, heck! "I have my hand around my dick, Gil. It's so hard, Gil." I bite my lower lip. His voice is enough to give me a fucking rock-hard boner and my hand pumping me slowly does not exactly help in terms of decency. He must have heard my panting breath.  
  
"God, Warrick!" Gil growls. I know that tone, it's that husky bedroom-growl. Jesus Christ, I'm turning him on just like he does me. Arch-conservative Gil Grissom is about to have phone-sex with me!  
  
"Gil? I want you to close your eyes.....feel me tweak your nipples, Gil....feel how I pinch them until they are hard." I whisper into the phone. My hand has abandoned my dick for a moment to mimic the moves I just suggested. The effect is fucking good, shooting straight to my groin.  
  
"Yessss......" Gil is hardly audible but I can tell by his voice that he does what I told him.  
  
"And I'd suck your balls, give them a good tongue-bath. Oh, Gil, I can smell that warm musky scent of your crotch!.......Are you hard?" This is crazy, but in a hot way. I've never done this before but my imagination and longing together are strong enough to create a perfect illusion, one strong enough to let me get fully immersed.  
  
"God, Rick! How could I not! I want you…!"   
  
My hand is back. Center of my hunger, hard and hot and throbbing. I'm nearly aching for release but I want to hear him, want to hear him come.  
  
"You can have me, you know that. Take me hard and fast like you did at your place, God!" I should get a headset! I could need a second hand on me right now. Oh. My. God! I could need something inside me right now! If not Gil then at least my fingers. I can feel the muscles of my ass responding to the picture we created, can feel how they gently contract, longing for the wonderful stretch Gil uses to give me. But I have to hold that fucking phone. My other hand speeds up to compensate for the lack.  
  
"Warrick, you're so tight, so hot."   
  
"Almost there, Gil, almost…"   
  
The reply is a long, ragged moan that betrays Gil's climax. That sound takes me over the edge. All those miles between us are gone as we share our passion. We're so in synch with each other, distance doesn't count at all.   
  
I grab my shorts and wipe my belly clean before I roll up and hug myself. I still miss him, probably even more now.  
  
"Ricky? You there?" Gil is still breathless.  
  
"Yeah..."  
  
"God, Ricky, that....you....I needed that!"  
  
"Same here, Gil." I whisper slowly. We're not too talkative in the afterglow and talking now is somehow odd. "Don't you have to get up early?"  
  
"Yes, but I wouldn't want to have missed this. You need sleep yourself, Rick. Sweet dreams."  
  
"Sweet dreams, Gil." I sigh and am just about to hang up when he calls my name again.  
  
"Oh, Warrick? I love you." Click. The line is dead. Leaves me with a racing heart. I positively count the hours until he returns.   
  
Only two more nights.  
  
Who can tell what will happen until then?  
  
Neverending two nights to go... 


	11. Missing No 2

Missing No. 2  
  
"Hey, Cath! You seen Nick?" it's already 20 minutes past the beginning of the shift and no Nick. Not that I'd bee too keen on working with him at the moment, but we do have a case here. OK, I was incredibly five minutes late but that's not exactly a reason not to wait for your partner, is it?  
  
Cath is about to shrug her shoulders when Sarah casually informs us "He said he would drive over to that guy and ask about the things he could translate so far.  
  
"What guy?" I need reconfirmation although all my sirens are signaling 'red alert'.  
  
"The guy from that weird mag. Said he had a few more questions."  
  
"Sarah! That GUY is a suspect in a missing case! How the hell could you let him go alone?" what the hell is Nick doing? How can he put himself in such a situation without waiting for backup!  
  
"He's what?" I can see Sarah go pale, almost greenish.  
  
"A fucking SUSPECT. Goddamn!" in lack of any other appropriate target for my fist I slam it into the wall. Causes Greg to peek out of the lab "Where's the address?"  
  
Silent shrugging of shoulders.   
  
"You let him drive off alone and don't even ask for the addy?" I'm about to blow a gasket. Is everybody going lax only because Gris is away for a few days?  
  
"Calm down, Warrick." Cath tries to get back some control and stop us from completely falling apart. I take a deep breath for an angry retort but her eyes kick me back to some kind of controlled mode. I shut my mouth.  
  
"Sara, get the magazine and note the address." Cath instructs with an amazingly calmness. Gil's best student, no doubt. Somebody who's seen enough catastrophes to happen to keep calm until facts are presented. Hearsay cannot unsettle her.  
  
Sara disappears in an instant.  
  
"What the hell is up with you, Warrick?" Cath is shaking my both arms.  
  
"Not now." I shake my head slowly, "really not now."  
  
"It's under box-number." Sara returns, mag in hand.  
  
"Then call the fucking editor!" I'm snapping at her. Sara must be really shaken, for she doesn't even glare at me, simply complies. Guess I'll have to pay for that later. I don't give a damn.  
  
"It's an emergency! We're with the LVPD and –" we hear Sara's upset voice yelling at the phone. We walk in, Greg's there too, we're standing there and listening, trying to figure out what the problem is. "Right. OK. We'll send an officer over to your place." She slams the phone down.  
  
"They're not to give away any address at the phone. We'll need a warrant."  
  
"I'll call Brass." I grab the phone.  
  
"And we need it in Denver, Colorado." Sara adds.  
  
Holy Cow! It completely slipped that not every paper is printed in LV. Oh shit!   
  
......  
  
"Warrick, sit down for god's sake!" Sara glares at me. I'm pacing the room for....I don't know, a while at least. I check my watch for the umpteenth time. 36 minutes since we had called Brass. Why the hell does this take so long? Every five minutes I try to page Nick, call Nick – no answer. I hope that he simply doesn't want to talk to me, the pervert. I pray to god that's the reason . I would gladly have him call me a fag into my face right now. Really, I would welcome it and hug him for it! With every minute that passes the lump in my stomach grows bigger and colder. I wish Gil was here. He's always in control, always knows what to do and how to do the best.   
  
When the phone shrills, we're all frozen. Greg's the fastest and answers the call.  
  
"Sanders. – yes. ……...good………um-hm……gimme a sec…….." Greg grabs a pen and starts to write. We're all crowding in on him. "Thanks a lot. Bye. – hey!" he hasn't really hung up when three different hands reach for the note. Sara has the best grip on it and heads for the door.  
  
"Where do you think you're going?" Cath's voice is sharp like a razor and the effect is imminent: Sara stops in her tracks.  
  
"Well, what'cha thinking?"  
  
Cath calmly walks over and takes the note from Sara who – strangely – offers no resistance.   
  
"You're going to stay here, call Brass and tell him where to meet us. Greg? Make sure Sara'll stay. Warrick, come with me." She turns, completely ignoring Sara's protests. We're leaving with the address ingrained in our minds. We wouldn't have needed the written copy.  
  
Sara is cursing and struggling but Greg is stronger – bless the male physical supreriority! He'll make sure she's going to stay in the lab. Cath is driving. Breaking every possible speed-limit. By the time we arrive Nick is missing for over an hour.  
  
The house looks ever so normal! And empty. At least there is not a single light on. Sirens approach and soon two patrol-cars with flashing lights stop left and right of our SUV. The officers approach the door, knock, call, ring the bell.   
  
No answer.  
  
They demand the door to be opened.  
  
Still nothing  
  
Brass gives a go to break up the door and the officers storm the house. We're too tense to speak as we wait.  
  
"Nobody in there." An officer walks out to inform us of their findings. By now the neighbors are standing in their doorways and windows, staring. "I'll go ask them if Nick's car was here earlier." Cath is already moving away while I put on my gloves and enter the house.  
  
Looking around there's only one word that describes it: sterile. Tiled floors, no carpet anywhere, the couch covered with one of those hideous clear-pvc-covers. I always called them couch-prophylactics. Could never understand how people would want to sit on such a thing…..  
  
Nothing. The bed is freshly made with new sheets, no used laundry, the freezer full with microwave-food. The attic of the one-story-house is empty too. In the cellar we find: noting until I turn around hastily and bump hard into an officer. The guy stumbles backwards and tries to steady himself by grabbing a shelf. But it sways and falls. Both of us manage to jump aside and evade the avalanche of canned food that tumbles down with a hell of a noise.   
  
And then we freeze.  
  
We stare.   
  
We blink.  
  
The officer makes it out, I'm too slow, throwing up where I stand. 


	12. Gruesome Findings

Gruesome findings.  
  
The wall is covered with a puzzle of photographs. The total is a sequence of a man's face being eviscerated. It's weird, but faces are so important to us, that even a minor facial injury looks terribly to us. I've never been too good with autopsies but then the victim's already dead, right? The amount of blood on those pictures clearly indicates the victim was still alive. Oh my dear God, I've seen a lot but this….  
  
When my stomach finally calms down after a violent retching, I brace myself against the view and look around. Below the pictures is a small box. I can hardly make myself step closer, but I have to.  
  
"Warrick?" it's Cath from upstairs.  
  
"It's alright, Cath. Don't come down." I answer, my voice not as firm as I'd like it to.  
  
"Warrick, are you OK?" I can hear her steps on the stairs.  
  
"Stay upstairs, Cath! For God's sake do as I say!"  
  
OK, one deep breath. *You can do this, Warrick. It's just pictures. They won't bite you. You're a big man, not a kid any longer. You can go there* I grab the box and rush upstairs as if the devil himself was after me.  
  
I'm not stopping before I'm outside the house, where I can breathe fresh air. Only now I open the box: Hi8 video-cassettes. Three of them, 180 minutes each.  
  
Cath had learned in the meantime that Mr. Franks, the man who lives here, has left earlier together with a man in a dark SUV. By now every policeman in and around LV is in search for Nick's Tahoe. We can't do too much, except see what is on those tapes. I don't want to. I have a guess and that's enough. Yet, we need to know. They might hold the hint we will need to find Nick!  
  
+++  
  
None of us has managed to watch longer than 35 minutes. We're outside the room, avoiding to peek through the glass-wall like hell. After all the vid is still playing. We don't want to see it.   
  
We can't.   
  
It's too sick.  
  
It started rather….well, kind of harmless with some CBT – that is cock-and-ball torture. I don't know why but there are guys going off at having their balls put in a vice. That was the moment Greg gave up. The vic was being tied spread-eagle on a stainless-steel-table. Looked like the morgue to me. Then a man starts to fuck the victim. Nothing too bad so far, but then, while fucking he starts to cut his victim with a scalpel. Criss-crossing the chest. That was when Sara left. I felt sick, but tried to concentrate on the surroundings, the background, honestly trying to find out where the hell this had taken place. He was then cutting away the flesh of the man's cheeks and …. I don't know. That was the moment when Cath and I made a run for the restrooms.  
  
I'm still reeling with horror. Nobody's speaking a word. I don't know if I can get these pictures out of my head ever again. I look at my co-worker's faces and we all think the same: Is Nick the next? Yet nobody dares to utter those words, as if speaking them out aloud would make it become a horrible reality. As if silence could prevent Nick and us from what seems to happen.  
  
The phone rings.  
  
Good Lord! Finally something. This time it's me who's making the run.  
  
"Yeah?" I'm switching on the loudspeaker.  
  
"Warrick?" but it's Gil, not Brass "Are you ok, dear?" his voice is concerned, that single word I spoke must have carried all my anxiety and fear and shit! Gil doesn't know they all can hear him. Being honest, I don't really care at this moment.  
  
"Gil? I got the speaker on."  
  
"oh."  
  
"Gil, something terrible happened: Nick is missing and so is a suspect he went to see."  
  
"How?"  
  
I try to tell it in the proper way but recalling fucking upsets me and I start to stammer.  
  
"Warrick, I want you to calm down." God, his voice alone can do that! I can actually FEEL my pulse drop a bit. "Try to breathe slow and even OK?"  
  
"Yeah."  
  
"OK. You think you can go on, then do so. Take your time." He's so calm, like a rock in wildest surf and he calms me. I continue "When you called we hoped it was Brass. Hence the speaker on."  
  
"I'm on my way."   
  
"Good. We really need you here, Gil." Yeah and I do, especially! I hang up the phone and meet the eyes of my co-workers. None of them cares about my little secret uncovered. We have more pressing things to worry about.  
  
"Wait! I need to see that again…" Greg mutters and disappears in the vid-room. The rest of us exchanges quizzical glances, then we're following him. Greg rewinds the tape and then goes in single-picture-mode. He points at some structure in the background.   
  
"Can you get that clearer?" he asks.  
  
I'm glad I have something useful to do and throw myself at the switches. We can produce an acceptable image of what Greg saw. It's a large steel-hook hanging down from the ceiling. The shadows behind indicate there are several more behind in a straight line.  
  
"What the hell's that?" I ask.  
  
"I wasn't sure, but the table looked somehow familiar. See, we had lots of big dogs at home. We always went to the abattoir to buy the leftovers. These hooks – they hang the corpses onto such hooks." Greg was terribly excited "I bet this is some abandoned slaughterhouse."  
  
"Call Brass and tell him." The tape is stopped, the screen mercifully shows only that ominous steel-hook.  
  
"They found the car!" Greg announces. He waves with a note, the addy jotted down in his impossible handwriting. We cram us into a single SUV. Not that there are not enough cars, but we all have the need to stay together right now. Mobile red-light flashing and honking Greg files through the traffic like a hell-rider. The kid does a good job until a patrol-car tries to stop us. We all wave our IDs and the officers understand, get their car in front of ours and escort us through the maze of back-lights.  
  
It's indeed an old abattoir, surrounded by hoards of policemen. Chances are Nick is still alive. Dear God, let him be OK! Sara – hell, why did we take her along? She is too involved! Not that anyone of us is not, but she's the one in love with Nick. Sara dashes towards the building and I really have to run to catch her.  
  
"Sara!"  
  
"Let me go!" she bucks and struggles like a foal, It's hard to hold her.  
  
"Sara, you can't help him now." I don't want to hurt her, but how else shall I keep a freakin' woman steady?  
  
"Let –" we hear a shot rip through the night, piercing our frayed nerves. Sara hits me square in the face and elbows my groin so badly I double-over, still not letting her go. It's all I can think of through a haze of pain: don't let her go, War, and if it's the last thing you do. Just hold on tight.   
  
Bend and twisted as we stand while I try to breathe through the pain, to come up again.  
  
"You hurt me!" Sara complains. Really, do I? I bet I'm not hurtin' her as badly as she just did me. Bitch! At least the pain had cleared her head a bit and she nearly gave up struggling. We watch paramedics run into the complex, policemen flooding the building like ants.  
  
"Is he OK?" a voice from behind inquires. It Gil! Oh my God, sweet baby Jesus and all saints that is what I needed! I feel a load of worries fall off my heart.  
  
"Thank God you're here! We don't –" ...know I wanted to say but just then the paramedics roll out a stretcher. Seeing no reason to hold Sara back any second longer, I release her. Greg and Cath join us and greet Gil. The sight of Greg makes him raise an eyebrow, nothing more. Together we walk towards the stretcher.   
  
It's Nick.   
  
He's either unconscious or in a very bad state.   
  
"They say he's completely drugged. Bruised and zoned out, they could not find any other external injuries. They're going to take him to hospital for further examination." Sara doesn't even ask, she takes it for granted that she'll drive in the ambulance, holding Nick's limp hand.  
  
"I'm going to process the scene. Cath, Warrick, you join me. Greg, get back to the lab, ASAP." Gil already heads for the Tahoe to pick up a field-kit. When he realizes no-one of us actually moved, he turns "the sooner we're done here, the sooner we can go to the hospital and see Nick. We cannot help him now, except in finding what went on here."  
  
"Come-on." Cath amicably slaps my back. Yeah, he's right. As always Gil knows best what to do.  
  
+++  
  
The stink inside is nauseating. Rotten flesh. We all know the smell but in here its intensity is unheard of. Like we're walking against a wall of stink each of us pauses for a second before we enter with a disgusted groan. I'm glad I don't have to take pictures of Nick IN HERE. It gives me a bit more of distance, makes working easier.  
  
"Over here!" Cath's voice echoes eerily throughout the dim hall. As I approach her, the stink gets even stronger, if that is possible at all. The white beam of light cuts out details of a total I'd be glad to miss. A pile of flesh and bones, haphazardly loaded onto one another. The sterile building had kept most insects away, only bacteria were at work. The remains are partially in a liquefied state, flowing and melting into each other.   
  
*flash* *flash* I let the celluloid testify the crime. I'm still too shaken, reeling with fear and relief as to do anything but work mechanically. I admire Cath. She shows once more that women are truly the strong sex. Amazing how tough she is!   
  
We find four skulls in different states of decay within the pile that we pull apart with steel-beams. Even the freshest cannot be identified: the eyes are gone, the flesh is cut apart in large areas, making the face a terribe mess. The hair is balck and curly though. It might be Ramirez' brother. The dentist's files will show.  
  
Although we get backup from day-shift it takes hours to secure all evidence and have it all transported. I'm bone-dead and mentally numbed by the time we're done. 


	13. Steam

Author's note: I'm sorry this took me so long, but real life can be darn stressing and without the muse to kick me...  
  
But by now I have a clear picture where this will lead to and I'm positive that x-mas vacation will offer me a bit more time to write.  
  
Hope you enjoy this chapter.  
  
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
  
We're heading for the hospital. A glance at my watch reveals that it's already close to noon! Not caring about anything anymore I enter Gil's car and slump down on the right front-seat. Cath occupies the back-seat. Gil drives, calm and steady as usually. Only the hard white line around his lips and a few, slightly deeper wrinkles around his eyes betray how tense he truly is.  
  
"Why was he alone there?" my boss asks us. My boss. Right now he's far from being anything but that.  
  
"I don't know." Cath defends herself. It had not been her decision. "I had War and Nick assigned to that missing case. I don't know why he went alone."  
  
"It's my fault." I admit with a low voice.  
  
"What did you say?" Gil asks with a frown. Oh that goddamn increasing hearing-loss of his! I could yell at them. Fuck's sake, I do need something to let off steam, really do! I grit my teeth and take a deep breath. Then, louder this time, I repeat: "It's MY fault."  
  
"Care to clarify?"  
  
Honestly, no. I don't. I wipe my face and pull my hair. Why is Cath here? Why do I have to do this? This is so damned personal. For the first time I feel like a suspect being interrogated, having people snoop around in my very private matters. I'm wincing "We clashed somewhat. I tried to talk to him about what he saw at your place earlier."  
  
"So you realized he was royally shocked." Gil states.  
  
"Right. So this missing-case – the guy's into S&M and apparently gay. We find an issue of a weird magazine at his place and this ad he'd circled. I found it and Nick flips the pages, sees the pictures and God! Can you imagine what looks he gave me?"  
  
"No."  
  
"These: ' I always knew gays were but a bunch of sick pervs' looks. Like he believes that is what we're into because all gays do just that. I – I think I blew a gasket." I haven't felt so guilty since Holly was shot. If I had not yelled at Nick like I had, he would have waited, I'm certain.  
  
"That wasn't exactly what we agreed to do, was it, Warrick?"  
  
"I'm not a pervert!" I'm yelling. "I'm sick of hiding, I'm sick of hearing all that bullshit all the time. And there's my best friend telling me he's not willing to investigate some missing perverted gay bastard. That bastard could have been me, right? Or you. I just couldn't take it any longer!" my fist slams into the dashboard and it hurts! Kinda calms me a tad down. Not too much, though. There's definitely not enough air in the car.  
  
The car has stopped at some point of my ranting. Gil grabs my arm.  
  
"Christ's sake, Warrick, get a grip!"  
  
"Gil? Why don't you take Warrick someplace calmer and I drive to the hospital?" I almost jump out of my skin when I hear Cath from behind. I groan my delight about her having been forced to watch my little freakin'.  
  
"No. I wanna go there. Wanna see how he's doin'." I turn the offer down immediately.  
  
"Do you think you can handle it?" Gil gives me a sharp glance.  
  
"Yeah...yeah I can." At least I do hope so. Damn, but I need to calm down. But how? I caused this mess. I have driven Nicky into this situation. I'm drowning in guilt and I certainly will not be able to handle it if Nicky is – in any form – permanently afflicted. I'm not used to being personally involved into a case that deeply. I bury my face in my hands as Gil proceeds to drive us.  
  
The waiting is the worse. They're all huddled in a corner near the vending-machine. Nobody talks. I'm pacing the room like a caged tiger and they stay clear of me. It's better that way. I'm not in the mood to have anybody come across my path.   
  
At least I'm having some kind of clear moment here. All this shit initially happened because of my problem. No, not the being-bi thing. That ain't a problem. Gambling. That's it. If I hadn't had a fallback, Nick would never have seen what he saw at Gil's. No clash, no nothing. OK, I would have continued to live that little lie 'bout me and Gil but things would be fine. From my actual point of view that would have been a small price.  
  
The doctor arrives! Oh sweet baby Jesus, let him be OK. I promise to be a good boy from now on, just let Nick be OK!  
  
...  
  
My knees grow weak with relief: a cracked rib, a heavy dose of drugs but no injuries, no signs of rape, nothing. As soon as he wakes, he'll be as good as new. My hands shake.  
  
"I'll take you home." Gil takes me to the car and drives.  
  
"I don't want to go home. I...I need to let off some steam!" uh-oh. He gives me a looooong stare, then nods and turns left. I find myself in an amusement-park, a fat rubber-rope attached to my ankles. The platform is damn high. 150 feet over ground. It looked high from below, but from up here it's....... awfully scary. I spread my arms and let myself slowly tilt forward. A bit more and a bit further until there is no turning back.  
  
I'm falling, headfirst downward. My stomach somersaults, my heart skips a beat, it feels almost as if it is going to a cardiac arrest.   
  
This takes damn long!   
  
The ground is VERY close now.  
  
God, I hope that rope wasn't too long.   
  
Shouldn't it be stopping me by now?   
  
I feel panic grip me and I almost wet my pants when the rope tightens and pulls me back up. Oh, man!   
  
"Do you feel better now?" Gil's eyes observe me intently and although he never touches me in public I do feel embraced at this moment.  
  
"Different. NOW I do want to go home." I still can't believe he made me jump! "That was really scary, Gil."  
  
"Well, you refused the other option. I needed to so something, didn't I?"  
  
I think he's right. Still, seeing Lady Heather for a session was out of the question for me. 


End file.
